


Fruits of Their Labor

by Cardinal_Daughter



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Romance, Spoilers, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 15:39:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15609516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cardinal_Daughter/pseuds/Cardinal_Daughter
Summary: “You’re here,” Caleb gasps against him, holding him in a death grip, as if letting him go means to lose him again. “You’re here. You’re here. You’re here.”





	Fruits of Their Labor

**Fruits of Their Labor**

 

For an instant, there’s nothing; then a sharp pain, an odd twisting of flesh and bone and muscle, the harsh and uncomfortably familiar sensation of his lungs expanding for the first time in too long. The world is too bright, the wind and whispers and crunching of leaves underfoot too loud, and suddenly he’s ensconced in a too-tight embrace and everything _hurts_ and he’s trembling and he feels air surging into him and back out in a frantic tempo and-

When he comes to again, it’s much softer, much easier on his senses. He’s lying in a bed in what he assumes is an inn, and he’s bandaged and dirty, though he can tell that someone has wiped away as much dirt and blood as possible. He groans, and rolls his head over to see Yasha sitting to his right, Frumpkin sleeping peacefully in his lap. Her eyes are trained on him and she blinks once, then smiles softly.

“Welcome back.”

He tries to speak, to ask her _what happened, you were taken but now you’re here…_ but the words can’t get past the thicket that seems to have taken root in his throat. He remembers this: the quiet, inability to speak even as he willed his voice to emerge. Nothing comes out.

Yasha knows this. It’s probably why she’s here and not the others.

She stands, depositing Frumpkin on Molly’s lap and he instantly lifts a hand to tangle in the cat’s fur. Frumpkin is solid, tangible, living, and Molly finds he needs those things in this moment.

Yasha holds a cup of water to his lips and he drinks deep, the water more satisfying than the finest wine he can remember drinking.

“I know you probably can’t speak,” she says softly, “But can you hear and understand me?”

He nods once.

“Do you remember me?”

He nods once again.

“Does the name The Mighty Nein mean anything to you?”

 _Everything_ , he thinks. Instead he nods several times. Yasha sighs in relief.

“You died,” she says softly, and he can hear the hitch in her voice. “You died fighting a creature known as Lorenzo. You were buried, and Caleb, Beau, Nott, and a new friend known as Caduceus tracked us down, killed Lorenzo, and saved us. We managed to find someone able to raise you. We thought you’d have a better chance of being _you_ if we specifically brought you back, rather than waiting and hoping for you to crawl out of the grave again. Does all that make sense?”

He considers for a long moment, and despite having so many questions, he simply nods.

“Things are different now,” she whispers. “Several of The Nein watched you die. Buried you. Mourned you. Avenged you knowing there might be no hope of restoring you. The rest of us,” and here she pauses and sighs, “We were hurt. I’m fine,” she gives a hapless shrug, “But Jester and Fjord are changed. That creature messed with their minds. With my mind. You are not entirely the same and neither are the rest of us. Do you understand?”

He clutches Frumpkin closer, closes his eyes, and doesn’t respond.

*

 

Everyone reacts differently to his return.

Jester clings to him and cries, lamenting that she hadn’t been there to save him. Fjord doesn’t say much but thanks Molly for his sacrifice in trying to save them. Nott sits quietly and holds his hand and tells him about Nila and Keg and Caduceus and how they’d helped reunite Nila’s family and rescue some other prisoners and how Caleb had cast the killing blow against Lorenzo.

Beau sits beside him and, clumsily, ineloquently, tells Molly what she’d said at his grave. She hands him back his tarot cards and offers a small, sad smile. “I borrowed these. And you might be a little short on gold for a bit; you _did_ fund your resurrection, and we splurged on the best cleric possible- in your honor of course.”

He smiles at that, laughs a little and though no sound comes out, his shoulders shake and the jewelry on his horns jingles a little, and he feels more like himself.

Caleb visits him, but is distant and out of reach. He merely sits with him for a few minutes, stares at him in seeming disbelief, then after whispering a soft, “I am glad you are back,” he vanishes, and Molly isn’t sure if it’s the pain of coming back to life or something else that makes his chest ache.

 

*

 

In time, he recovers. And slowly, the Mighty Nein begins to as well.

Molly eventually finds his voice again, and though he speaks softly for a week or so, and only when necessary, he finds himself settling into his skin, readjusting to the feeling of being _Mollymauk_ , and things begin to return to how they were before.

Many things have changed irrevocably; but Molly can count on some things to be as they always were.

They stay in Zadash while Molly recovers. He thinks he should be restless by now, but he’s more grateful for the slow pace and the ease and the bath house that’s only a fifteen minute walk away.

Two weeks after Molly awakens, he joins the Mighty Nein downstairs for supper and drinks. He takes a few bites of hearty stew and sips at his ale, feeling the comforting weight of Yasha and Jester at his sides. The tavern is full of life and revelry and Molly relishes the sensation of _life_ all around him: in the soft and steady breathing from Yasha, in the excitable yet somehow more subdued chattering from Jester. The warmth and filling comfort of food and drink. He looks around at the mismatched group that has become his family; sees Fjord and Beau talking, sees Nott admiring her button collection. Caleb is across from him, book out and head lowered but after a moment of study Molly realizes that Caleb has only turned the page once in the twenty minutes Molly’s been sitting there, and he swears he sees his eyes blink up at him every few seconds, as if he can’t focus on the words for making sure Molly remains where he is.

As if Caleb looks away for too long, Molly might disappear.

They haven’t talked about anything since Molly awoke, and if he knows Caleb at all, he knows the wizard probably has a lot on his mind. He doesn’t really know how to approach that conversation; if it’s even a conversation _he_ needs to try to bring up. But he thinks, if nothing else, maybe all that’s needed is an opportunity.

He takes one more bite of stew even though he doesn’t want it: he’s trying to regain his strength and he needs food to do that, small as his appetite is, and then claims exhaustion and moves to return to his room. He meets Caleb’s eyes as he leaves, and offers him a small smile, then retreats.

Collapsing on the bed, Molly groans. He feels like shit. He’d never wanted to feel this way again; wonders how many times he’s experienced this. Maybe this is more common than he knows, for him, and he’s only able to remember the last time. He didn’t return naturally, though there’s hardly anything natural about waking up from the dead and clawing out of a grave as your first memory.

He’s tried so hard to create enough memories to push that one aside, but just like him, it refuses to stay dead.

He’s almost asleep when there’s a timid knock on the door. He sits up and calls out for them to enter. He is relieved to see Caleb, back pressed to the closed door, looking terrified and uncertain.

“You looked like you wanted to talk,” Molly remarks simply.

“Uh, Ja…” Caleb mutters, “I uh….” He stops, stares at the ground for a long moment. Then, before Molly can truly understand what’s happening, Caleb surges forward and wraps his arms around Mollymauk’s shoulders, head buried against his neck, and he’s _weeping._

“You’re here,” Caleb gasps again him, holding him in a death grip, as if letting him go means to lose him again. “You’re here. You’re here. You’re here.”

Molly’s still slow to react to most things, and this is no exception. He finally registers what Caleb is saying and, heart breaking, he winds his arms around Caleb’s midsection and holds back with equal fervor.

“You were _gone_ ,” Caleb whispers brokenly, “And then so was Frumpkin, and I can bring him back with little trouble but it wasn’t fair to lose you and then him but you were _gone_ . I pushed dirt over your body; I _left you in the ground_.”

“You did what you had to do,” Molly whispers, “I’m glad you left me; I’m glad you saved Yasha and Jester and Fjord. You did what I would have wanted. You helped others; you helped Nila. And Keg. And once I’m better we’re going to help this Caduceus fellow. You did the right thing.”

“I understand,” Caleb whispers, his warm breath tickling Molly’s neck. “I _know_ we did the right thing. I am glad the others are back. But you were _gone_ .” He pulls away slightly, leaning away only enough so he can look Molly in the face. “I keep thinking I will look up and you will not be there. That the spell failed. I keep dreaming of you, of my hand pushing dirt over this beautiful face, and I have lost so many people- so many, by my own hand even- and to think that I… that I had to bury you, to _leave you,_ like I’ve done to so many others…”

He breaks again, tears streaming freely as he mourns all over again. Molly says nothing, merely pulls him closer and wraps one hand in Caleb’s hair, petting him soothingly.

“I’m here now,” he whispers. “I’m here. I’m right here. And I can’t promise it won’t happen again, I wouldn’t promise such a thing, but for now _I am here._ Right here. I’m in your arms and you’re in mine and we’re both alive.”

He shifts, manages to catch one of Caleb’s hands, and lifts it to his chest. “See? It’s beating; nice and strong. I’m here, Caleb. I’m _here.”_

He feels Caleb’s hand press a little harder, as if desperate to feel the _thump-thump_ of Molly’s heart. He calms at that, sniffles, then lets out an embarrassed laugh.

“You die and come back, and yet you have to comfort me.”

Molly smiles. “I _like_ comforting people,” he says, and it’s true. Molly likes to bullshit, everyone knows it, but every now and then he’s compelled to open himself up and reveal the raw and real parts of him. This is one such moment. “I’m glad to know my presence made an impact.”

“It very much did- does,” Caleb corrects. “I apologize. You said you were tired.”

“A half truth,” Molly admits. “I had to get you alone somehow. I could feel the tension radiating off you like magic. Do you feel better?”

“I do,” Caleb nods. “But I should be asking after you. How are you feeling, aside from pained and tired?”

“Lonely,” Molly admits softly. “I appreciate the extra coin spent to give me a room of my own,” he looks around at the room, spacious when only one person resides within. “But I miss the comfort of having someone close by.”

Caleb nods, relaxing as he realizes he can do something to ease Molly’s discomfort. “I understand. Get in bed, then. I will join you in ten minutes.” He pauses, then adds, almost sheepishly, “If you’re alright with that?”

Molly manages a saucy look. “You telling me you’ll join me in bed are words I never thought I’d hear you say. It’s _definitely_ alright.”

Caleb doesn’t respond, but Molly sees the blush on his cheeks as he makes a quick exit.

Ten minutes later Caleb returns, his belongings in tow. Caleb is silent as he strips off his boots, book holsters, and jacket, and crawls in beside Molly.

“I sent Nott a Message explaining the situation; sort of. But she knows I am going to be here tonight, just in case."

Molly is too touched to make a joke or witty remark. Instead he settles in bed, and allows himself to be pulled into Caleb’s embrace. He winds one arm and his tail over the wizard and whispers, “Sure this is okay?”

“It is very okay,” Caleb replies, “If I am honest, I probably need this as much as you.”

“Well, you’re welcome in my bed anytime you feel like joining me,” Molly says cheekily, and takes pleasure in the shiver his words elicit in Caleb.

 

*

 

Jester doesn’t touch people as much as she used to and loud noises startle her. Her laugh is still there, but it’s harder to bring forth. Yasha is even more fearful and hesitant of closed spaces; she sleeps outside most nights, even when the others are at an inn. Caleb wraps her in magical string so if anything happens he’ll know, and it’s a small comfort. Fjord’s dreams become more frequent and violent. Nott starts sleeping in his room so she can help him if he needs it; she’s the lightest sleeper of all, so she volunteers to stay with him.

They all have their burdens to carry, but they have each other to help bear the weight.

Molly finds himself craving Caleb’s presence. The wizard is quiet, gentle, comforting, and Molly finds that he needs those things at times, when once he would have rather had chaos and revelry and adventure to remind him that he’s alive. Now Caleb’s steady breathing against his neck is enough, and the feeling of Caleb’s arm carelessly draped over him is as pleasant as several rounds of ale in a crowded pub where all eyes are on him.

They make their way back to where they found Caduceus, but they take the forest rather than the road. They can’t bring themselves to march along the path that brought about Molly’s death, and Molly has no interest in seeing the messy mound of earth where his body had been for several days.

Caduceus is an interesting fellow; calm and cool and collected, and carries his own brand of strange. Molly like him immensely, and when Keg meets up with them later on, he finds he likes her too. She’s a little too much like Beau at times, but far more charming, and he finds himself laughing himself silly at some of her recounts of their adventure to rescue their friends. Caleb shows him with a wicked gleam how Keg seems to lack object permanence, causing her to freak out when Frumpkin appears then disappears, then _reappear_ s.

When they arrive at Caduceus’ cottage, he meets Nila, and The Mighty Nein grows well beyond their starting numbers, keeping the name firmly ironic. Molly finds Nila delightful, and he watches as Nila and her family bond with Caduceus, and they work to uncover the mystery of the dying forest.

At night, they all sleep out under the stars, the beauty of the little niche of thriving garden their own personal haven. Molly is a little unnerved by the headstones at first, but then he follows Caduceus one day to harvest tea leaves, and they talk about a great many things before Caduceus begins recounting stories of each person buried beneath them. He remarks with that soft and unphased tone of his just how lovely the flowers are.

“Even in death, life prevails,” he says in his sagely wisdom as he plucks a few petals and drops them into Molly’s cupped hands. “I admit, I am curious to know what flowers will bloom from me someday.”

It’s a thought that keeps Molly awake that night. They’re all spread out along the garden in clusters. Caleb is next to Molly, their fingertips meeting as they lay side by side, waiting for the others to fall asleep before they wrap around each other.

“You seem restless,” Caleb observes in a hushed whisper.

“Just thinking,” Molly whispers back.

“I thought overthinking was _my_ problem,” Caleb replies and has to stifle a laugh when Molly reaches over and lightly smacks his arm. Caleb laughs at that, hand covering his mouth to stifle the sound, but he laughs nonetheless.

They’re comfortable around each other, he realizes suddenly. Caleb is comfortable with Molly and Molly is comfortable with Caleb. Caleb is comfortable enough to _laugh_ in Molly’s presence, and though it’s hushed, it’s lovely and light and in the moonlight Caleb is beautiful and youthful and, for a moment, carefree.

“Caduceus said something earlier,” he continues when Caleb has calmed. “It was...profound. And I’m not one to meditate on the profound, but it stuck with me.”

“What did he say?” Caleb rolls onto his side, removing the hand next to Molly’s to prop his head up, and his other hand moves to replace the lost contact.

“We were picking flowers,” Molly begins, “And he was telling me about how you all seemed perturbed at drinking dead people tea, and then he said that here, even in death life prevails, and I don’t know. I guess that just felt a little too real.”

Caleb gives a thoughtful hum. “You are as colorful as a flower,” he says eventually, “And as sweet and as lovely. And so full of life. I think perhaps our friend is correct. Like his flowers, you continue to prevail when by all rights death should have taken over.” He moves closer, hesitantly, and Molly shifts to catch the wizard in his embrace. Against his lips, Caleb whispers, “Though if I am honest, I am not as fond of flowers as I am other things.”

“What do you prefer to flowers?”

“This. You. Here.”

Their lips brush together and a seed is planted between them.

 

*

 

The seed blooms into love. They fall into it naturally, easily, nurturing it with tender touches and slow confessions of truths that had once been as buried as Molly’s body. They share and admit and confess, slowly and in small bouts, but eventually both their truths are laid bare between them, fresh soil for their own private garden to grow.

They help Caduceus heal the forest, and then part, leaving him with Nila and her family to tend to the newly thriving wood.

As the remaining Mighty Nein leave the safety of Caduceus’ home, and as they walk through the revived and flourishing wood, flowers and trees and shrubs brimming with life and color, Molly takes Caleb’s hand in his and pulls them so they fall several steps behind the others. Caleb looks at him curiously and Molly glances at their clasped hands, almost nervously.

“I have something I would like to do. With you. As much as I like the others, this is something I want to be just for us.”

“Ja, of course, Mollymauk,” Caleb agrees. “Whatever you need. I will go with you.”

Molly smiles, and lifts their hands to press a kiss to Caleb’s knuckles.

“Thank you.”

They’d agreed to travel back to Zadash to see if the Gentleman had any jobs and to stock up from Pumat. Keg chooses to venture with them.

They travel through the forest on the way back and one day Molly stops them early, claiming he is tired. They’re all still careful with him, so fresh out of the grave, and travel is leisurely, so they stop early and camp and cook and tells stories until well after dark.

Molly had asked Caleb to request Nott take third watch, and she agrees, curiosity shining in her yellow eyes. When her watch comes Molly wakes up Caleb, and they approach the Goblin who watches them with questions brimming on the tip of her tongue.

“I have something I need to do,” Molly tells her, “And I’ve asked Caleb to come with me. We should be back before everyone wakes.”

Nott doesn’t demand to know what they’re doing, but she does demand that they both be careful and to Message her if anything happens.

“I promise,” Caleb says, running a hand through her hair affectionately, then the two of them turn and walk away. They are silent for most of the trip, Caleb holding Molly’s arm to help guide him through the darkness. Eventually they make it to the road and walk a ways toward Shady Creek Run before Caleb understands where they are going.

He tugs on Molly’s arm. “Wha-“

“Trust me,” Molly says earnestly, and he’s not often sincere so Caleb swallows his questions and simply trusts Mollymauk.

They arrive at the upheaved mound of dirt, untouched since the day they dug Molly out of the ground. Molly digs in his pockets and pulls out a pouch and pulls out a bulb as an explanation. Caleb tosses up some globules of light and looks at the small piece of potential in Molly’s hand. Understanding dawns.

“Oh,” Caleb whispers.

“Where there was death, now life will prevail,” Molly says softly. He places the bulb back in the pouch and explains: “I asked Caduceus if he had any seeds. Unsurprisingly, he had plenty. But he gave me these bulbs instead and said they would suit nicely for my purpose. I think he called them Daffodils.”

They circle around the grave and Molly looks down at the dark hole, then to Caleb. Carefully, Caleb bends down and begins scooping dirt back into the hole. Molly helps after a moment until finally they have mostly covered the grave. Sitting on the ground, sweaty and tired, they smile at each other and without a word Molly pulls out a few bulbs and hands a couple to Caleb. Together, they plant the bulbs into the ground, then they push the rest of the dirt over, covering them completely.

Molly pulls out a flask and, after taking a small sip and offering some to Caleb, dumps the rest onto the dirt, watching it turn dark as the soil sucks up the water.

Standing, Molly offers his hand to Caleb and helps him stand as well. They don’t release their hold on each other; rather they gravitate closer, lips meeting in a soft but earnest kiss.

“You’re here,” Caleb whispers when at last they break apart.

“ _We’re_ here,” Molly replies.

With that, they turn away to make the trek back to camp. Once more, Caleb links his arm through Molly’s as he lets his globules fade away. They walk, at peace and satisfied, reveling in the fruits of their labor.

  


**Author's Note:**

> 1\. This was supposed to be a short little thing where Caleb has a meltdown over Molly dying and coming back and ending with them cuddling in bed together but then shit happened and now look where we are. 
> 
> 2\. Daffodil’s represent new beginnings/life. 
> 
> 3\. If you want to cry with me about how amazing all these characters are, find me on Tumblr. Same username as here.


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